Escape from Grey
by Somigliana
Summary: When the war becomes oppressive and almost too much to bear, Draco rescues Ginny for an afternoon.


**Escape from Grey**

By Somigliana

* * *

She had no tears left to cry in this war, it felt. She lay on her bed, listening to the muffled sobs and murmured words of comfort that drifted down the stairs. The age-spotted ceiling seemed to press down on her as she idly traced the hex-scar on her arm with a nail-bitten fingertip. She lifted her arm, examining the smooth, shiny surface of her only visible and tangible scar. In the grey light that seemed to ooze from the leaden February sky, her skin looked ashen, faded.

She had cried for Remus, Charlie, and Neville. And then for Harry, even though he still lived. She had cried for Draco when he'd arrived here – for the scars that criss-crossed his back, and for the unmistakable shadow of grief in his eyes. But today, when the news was delivered by grim faces and shimmering eyes, she did not feel a sharp stab of loss; her reaction was tempered by the expectation that tomorrow or the next day, it would happen again.

She struggled to feel the acute sadness that she wanted to feel; Fred had been her favourite brother, after all. And even the guilt at not feeling was vague, made listless by endless grey days and a dark war.

Her bedroom door opened and rebounded in hollow notes off the scarred wall. She barely started, but did turn her head to see who had intruded on her empty melancholy. She smiled slightly, the corner of her mouth turned upwards minutely. He was, perhaps, the only person who saw her smile these days. Her unexpected lover; the tarnished, redeemed, beautiful Draco. "Hi, Drey."

He wore his hair short and dark these days – his natural platinum was a distinct bull's-eye for an enemy that sought his blood with bitter determination. But his eyes remained the same silvery-grey, although these days they were usually hardened to steel with determination rather than darkened by grief.

His eyes were certainly determined now as he strode across the room and stood over her, hands on his narrow hips. "Get up, Ginny." Sometimes, in the dark, his voice was soft and husky, her escape. Now, his tone brooked no argument.

"Why?" She didn't feel like getting up at all. She felt that if the world would leave her alone to lie there the entire day, she would. "Come lie with me," she offered, but did not shift to make room; her arms and legs felt heavy and tired.

"You can't lie here like this anymore. This house is depressing, and I refuse to let you lose your fire as well," he said in that petulant tone that he still had the capacity to put on. And ever true to his nature, there it was; the self-pleasing motive to any supposedly altruistic thing that he did for anybody around Grimmauld Place.

He bent and tugged on her hand, effectively dragging her into a sitting position. "But we're not _allowed_ to go anywhere," she complained, resisting him as such as she felt inclined to at the moment.

He smirked and flicked his wand at the door. It closed, and the lock clicked into place. "They won't miss us for a couple of hours," he wheedled. The affected pout that accentuated the high planes of his cheekbones kick-started her pulse.

"Where are we going?" she relented.

He merely smiled triumphantly and fished a potion vial from his pocket. "Here, drink this … anti-nausea potion," he said, then placed a pink-papered chocolate in her other hand. "Sweets for my sweet," he said smoothly. "And it's not even Valentine's Day yet." Her heart fluttered; he could be so smoothly charming when he wanted to be.

"So we're Apparating somewhere far, then?" She uncorked the potion and grimaced at the bitter taste, and then quickly unwrapped the chocolate and chewed, letting the darkly sweet flavour chase away the residual aftertaste of the potion.

"Maybe," he said, flicking his wand first at her, and then himself. Her old Hogwarts robes, frayed slightly where she'd ripped the school badge off, shimmered and morphed into a beautiful ivory silk dress that caressed her calves. Her old, scuffed shoes were now elegant gold sandals, and she felt her neck bared as her hair was magicked into an elegant up-style.

She gazed up, feeling wonder creeping under her heavy cloak of depression. Draco stood in a black tuxedo, impossibly gorgeous, and all hers. He held out his hand, and this time she took it and stood without resistance. "You look beautiful," he said, kissing her hand in a courtly gesture.

"It's only magic, and it'll wear off soon." She felt that threatening grey creep in on her again.

"An hour or so is all I need," he said confidently. "And anyway, you're always beautiful to me. Hold fast," he warned. She'd barely taken a breath when the world closed in on her, squeezing against her – although, honestly, it didn't feel all that much different from the confinement she'd felt lately.

She heard the peace before she opened her eyes; the sound of birds chirping, and the distinct, restful sound of running water. It was warm here, too – not the close, muggy feel of London summer, but a clear warmth that whispered across her skin on a light breeze.

When she opened her eyes, she took an indrawn breath, and felt like she had been pulled into another world, another time, rather than just another place. The vibrancy of the colours around her almost hurt her eyes for a moment before she took them in hungrily. The sky was open, so intensely blue that it seemed to have no top. "I'd almost forgotten what the sky looked like," she murmured, before her gaze dropped to a lake, so still that the surrounding gardens were mirrored perfectly in all their multicoloured beauty.

In the center of the garden, stood a beautiful stone fountain. The light shimmered in rainbow hues around the light spray. At the garden's edges, large trees spread welcoming shady patches on the soft, green grass. A table stood under one of the trees, decked in white linen, awaiting them.

They stood at the wrought iron gates set in a stone wall which surrounded the peaceful haven, and there, Ginny turned to Draco, feeling lighter and more in love than she could have ever imagined being.

She wound her arms up around his neck, and smiled up at him. "Oh, Draco, thank you." Her eyes sparked with a passion for life almost forgotten. And in that moment, she understood why he'd brought her here, she thought. She'd almost forgotten what normal life felt like, what simple joys were to be had. She thought they all had, in some way. She was just so lucky to have Draco to remind her that life waited _after_.

He smiled, and pulled her closer, his forehead a hair's breadth from hers. "I wanted you to remember how beautiful life could be," he said softly, elegant fingers caressing her bare back lightly. "I love you —" Her breath caught in her heart, "—and I couldn't bear to see you so …" He trailed off, perhaps at a loss for how to describe how she'd become in the last weeks, or perhaps because she was squeezing him so tightly that he lost breath.

Her face was pressed against his neck, his familiar scent overpowering the lingering scent of perfumed flowers. "I love you, too," she said, lifting her head to smile happily. "One day, when the war is over, can we come back here?" she asked. Already she knew that this place would be special to her, forever.

He dropped his head to kiss her – a light, summery kiss that tasted of possibility and promise. "Of course," he said, reaching to take her hand. They entered the garden and walked slowly towards the table, taking a few hours from the war to replenish hope.

* * *


End file.
